Chapter 9 – When I'm Sixty-Four

Arthur couldn't help but feel happy. So far, the entire day had been going his way. He'd managed not to burn his breakfast, he had gotten all of his work done, and the stupid frog had not contacted him once.

Arthur almost felt like skipping down the hall, but he didn't, because it would ruin his image. Let's leave the skipping toidiots like Feliciano, Antonio, and Alfred, thank you very much.

Still, he couldn't stop the small smile from coming across his face. He got into his car to drive home.

Arthur flicked on the radio. He paused on a station playing the Beatles song, When I'm Sixty-Four. He sighed and switched stations.

Arthur had to admit that that song was not his favorite. It made him feel old since he was a lot older than sixty-four. At least I don't look my real age. He thought.

Still, whenever he thought of this sort of thing, for some reason he would hear the sound of Alfred calling him an old man, which Alfred generally called him at every World Meeting.

Do I really act that old? He asked himself. Arthur blinked as he approached his house and noticed a car sitting in the driveway. Upon parking, he looked inside the car and noticed that it was set up American style. Ah, looks like Alfred came for a visit.

Arthur entered his house and noticed the smell of something delicious.

"Welcome back, Artie!" Alfred's head peeked out of the kitchen and gave Arthur a big smile. "Supper's almost ready! I hope you're okay with Italian food."

"Ah, yes. It's fine. Any reason for a visit, Alfred?" Arthur hung up his coat and entered the kitchen to see two pots on the stove and Alfred stirring the one filled with tomato sauce.

"Uh, not really, I just decided to come." Alfred stopped stirring the sauce and opened the lid on the other pot to check the noodles. "Besides, you might kill yourself someday with your own cooking, so, being the hero that I am, I want to make sure that you eat something good."

"My cooking is fine." Arthur narrowed his eyes at him, and decided to get out plates to set the table. "And I don't want to hear about nutrition from you when you eat hamburgers everyday."

"I don't eat them everyday." Alfred noticed the set table. "Oh, thanks, Iggy!"

"My name isn't Iggy."

"Whatever, Artie." Alfred drained the spaghetti noodles and set them on a hot pad, and then he brought over the sauce. After a final trip to get the garlic bread out of the oven, he and Arthur settled down to eat.

Arthur didn't talk much as he was still thinking about the song When I'm Sixty-Four and his age while Alfred talked about what was going on at his house, some movies that he had watched, and the video games he and Kiku had played recently.

"But that's enough of that, and I've given you plenty of chances." Alfred set down his fork and looked Arthur in the eyes. "What's up, Arthur?"

Arthur avoided his gaze. "Nothing."

"It's not nothing." Alfred frowned. "You've been brooding the whole meal, despite the fact you said that things were fine at work."

"Well," Arthur cursed the fact that Alfred was always most observant when he didn't want him to be, "on the way home, I heard the song When I'm Sixty-Four on the radio."

"Are you telling me you had a Beatles moment?" Alfred looked surprised.

"How familiar are you with that song?" Arthur ignored the question.

"Yeah, I know the song, but I don't see why it would bother you." Now Alfred looked confused.

"Well, you are always calling me an old man." Arthur avoided looking at Alfred and viciously stabbed at the spaghetti with his fork.

"Oh, is that what this is about?" Alfred looked surprised again. "Arthur, you sometimes act like an old man with your hobbies and problems with technology but…"

"That's the point! I mean, just think about the age difference between us! It's over a thousand years, Alfred!" Arthur finally got to the heart of the problem.

"So what? Obviously, I like older men." Alfred rolled his eyes and began clearing the table.

"What?" Arthur stared at his boyfriend.

"Well, I like you, and if you're an old man, then I must like older men." He thought for a moment, before he finished putting the food away. "But then again, I just like you, so maybe the whole age thing doesn't really matter."

"Sometimes I don't get why you like me. After all, you certainly don't need me." Arthur grumbled as he moved into the living room to settle down for some evening reading.

"Yes, I do need you." Arthur looked up and was surprised by how serious Alfred looked. "Without you, I am seriously a mess. After all," here Alfred gave a mischievous smile, "every hero needs his damsel in distress."

Arthur spluttered. "I am not a damsel in distress!"

Alfred plopped down on the couch. "Then what do you call the World Wars, if not me, the hero, coming to rescue you?"

Arthur growled. "You took your own bloody time."

"I wanted to intervene sooner both times, but my people couldn't be convinced to help until they were the ones in danger." Alfred picked up the remote control and handed Arthur his book that was lying next to it. "Anyway, we're getting off topic. When I'm Sixty-Four doesn't apply to us for two reasons."

"Really?" Arthur rolled his eyes. Leave it to the American git to trivialize my worries.

"Yeah, first off, that song is about a young person worrying about when he gets old. You were already old when we first met." Alfred said this while he turned on the TV and started to flip through the channels. "So it doesn't really apply to us since I was well aware of your age from the start and I still cared about you."

"Well, I guess there is that." Arthur admitted, blushing a bit. Okay, so he may be relieving my worries a bit. "So what's the second reason?"

Alfred smiled at Arthur and threw his arm around him, bringing him in for a hug. "You're not the only one over sixty-four, Artie. In terms of age, I'm old too."

Arthur smiled. "Well, you certainly don't act your age."

"And you better not expecting it any time soon." Alfred kissed the top of Arthur's head and turned his attention to the TV to start their quiet evening of companionship.

Arthur hid a smile, snuggled up to Alfred, and cracked open his book to start reading.

It had ended up being a great day after all.


A.N.: Yay! I'm back!